Zahria Ki Diary – Ek Khooni Kahani Jo Sirf Padhne Se Shuru Hoti Hai

Mera naam Aayan hai. Main Lucknow ke ek purane mohhalle mein rehta hoon. Zindagi kuch khaas nahi thi, lekin shaant zaroor thi. Main ek writer hoon. Horror kahaniyan likhta hoon. Ajeeb si baat yeh hai ke jitni dark kahani likhta hoon, utni hi zyada logon ko pasand aati hain. Lekin ek raat aisi aayi jisne meri likhi hui duniya aur asli duniya ke darmiyan ki deewar gira di. Woh raat 3 baje ki thi. Har jagah sannata tha. Bijli chali gayi thi. Main apne kamre mein sirf ek mombatti ke ujale mein likh raha tha. Laptop ki battery khatam ho chuki thi, aur main diary mein likhne laga. “BloodTale” — yeh naam tha meri nayi kahani ka. Ek aisi kahani jo main sirf sapne mein dekhta tha. Har baar jab main sochta ke main usay likhne baitha hoon, to haath thartharane lagte. Par uss din maine thaan liya tha. Jab maine pehla lafz likha: “Khoon se bhare haathon mein woh diary thi…” — tabhi mere kaan ke paas kisi ne dheere se foonka mara. Maine turant pichhe dekha. Khaali kamra. Lekin hawa mein ek ajeeb si sard mehsoos hui. Jitni der maine likhna jaari rakha, utni der har lafz ke saath kamra aur zyada thanda hota gaya. Mujhe lagne laga ke koi mere kandhe ke upar jhuk kar likhne mein meri madad kar raha ho. Ya shayad, mujhe likhne par majboor kar raha ho. Agle kuch din mein mujhe neend nahi aayi. Har raat wohi kahani. Har baar jaise koi mujhe kuch scenes dikhata. Khoon, chhilti hui jild, aankhon se behte andheray, aur ek naam: “Zahria.” Maine Zahria ka kirdar likhna shuru kiya. Ek bhootni. Lekin jaise-jaise uska zikr karta gaya, mujhe uski haazri mehsoos hone lagi. Mere ghar mein cheezen apne aap hilne lagi. Kitchen ka knife har subah bed ke paas milta. Mirror pe likha hota, “Waqt aa gaya.” Ek din toh hadd ho gayi. Main likh raha tha: “Zahria ke nakhun lambe ho rahe the, woh seedha dekh rahi thi” — tabhi meri diary par khoon ki ek boond tapki. Maine haath dekha, saaf tha. Sir upar uthaya — ceiling se laal rang ki taral cheez tapak rahi thi. Mujhe samajh nahi aaya ke main likh raha hoon, ya mere saath ho raha hai. Kahani ke har moڑ par main aur zyada uss duniya mein dhans raha tha. Ek raat, jab main likhte likhte thak gaya, tabhi mujhe zameen ke neeche se awaz aayi — jaise koi mitti ko khurach raha ho. Main neeche gaya, floor pe kaan lagaya. Awaz thambi, phir kisi aur zubaan mein kuch bola gaya — mujhe sirf ek lafz samajh aaya: “Wapas.” Usi din se mujhe log kehne lage ke mera chehra badal gaya hai. Main chup rehta tha. Aankhon ke neeche kale halke. Har waqt lagta koi peeche hai. Ek raat, jab main diary likh raha tha, to meri maa chilla kar kamre mein bhagi. Usne kaha: “Aayan! Diary jal rahi hai!” Maine dekha, lekin diary to mere samne thi — sahi salamat. Phir usne diary uthaayi — aur sach mein diary ke andar se dhuaan nikal raha tha. Tab mujhe yaad aaya — maine kahani mein likha tha ke “Zahria ki atma diary mein qaid hai.” To kya main usko azaad kar raha hoon? Tab maine likhna chhod diya. Kuch din theek rahe. Main neend le paya. Har waqt koi mujhe dekh raha ho, yeh ehsaas kam ho gaya. Lekin kahani adhoori thi. Aur us raat, main apne room mein tha jab ek thanda haath mere gale ke paas aaya, aur ek awaaz aayi: “Adhoori kahaniyaan kabhi mar’ti nahi, Aayan…” Main chillaaya, lekin awaaz andar hi ghut gayi. Mombatti bujh gayi. Andhera. Us andhere mein mujhe diary ka ek panna chamakta hua dikhayi diya. Uss par likha tha: “Main ab sirf kahani mein nahi hoon. Main yahan hoon.” Us din ke baad se main likhna bhool gaya. Har lafz mujhe khoon se bhara dikhta. Har kahani sirf ek hi pe khatam hoti thi: Zahria. Ek raat, main ne decide kiya ke diary jala doonga. Maine use lighter se jala diya. Lekin aag diary se nikal kar mere haathon tak aa gayi. Haath jale nahi… lekin unn par kuch likha hua tha — jaisey kisi ne andar se chaap diya ho: “BloodTale must end in blood.” Ab main zinda hoon, lekin sirf sharir mein. Andar se main khaali ho gaya hoon. Zahria har waqt mere saath hoti hai. Har shakhs jo mujhe milta hai, use main bas ek hi nazar se dekhta hoon — kya yeh agla hissa ban sakta hai? Aaj main yeh sab likh raha hoon ek nayi diary mein, jo maine ek purani kabristan ke andar mile qabar ke upar se uthayi thi. Us diary ka pehla panna tha: “Agar tu yeh kahani poori karega, to tu mera ho jaayega.” Aur phir last page pe ek laal khoon se likha jumla tha: "Zahria tumhare saath khelne aayi hai — lekin is baar kahani likhne ki baari tumhari hai." Agar tum yeh kahani yahan tak pad chuke ho... to diary ab tumhare haath mein hai. “BloodTale continues...”